Curricular
by DragonSapphire
Summary: Repost: Follow-up to 'Chicken.'


Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or its characters, and make no profit from writing this story. South Park & Characters are property of Matt Stone & Trey Parker.

**Curricular**

By DragonSapphire

Kyle grunted as he was slammed up against the chill brick wall that was the repetitive site of most of his and Cartman's aggressively non-violent confrontations. And several of the physical variety as well.

His thick, red hair cushioned the impact not at all, blunt fingers digging bruises into the backs of his thighs, through the denim of his straight-legged jeans. Cartman and he teased at fighting, played at fucking, and danced around meaning more to each other than either was ready to admit.

Despite Cartman's vague and vulgar claims of being Kyle's better - race, size, and deplorability of the other's mom at the front of that skewed rationing - Kyle would not abide by less than perfect, imperfect equality by burrowing his fingers, his nails into Cartman's broad shoulders and clamping his thighs obligingly around that thick waist.

They rubbed their hips together and breathed in each other's vaporous exhalations in the cold, forever-winter air, their foreheads pressed and creased with intent.

"God...love..." Kyle moaned, and moaned again when Cartman's hands shifted, tightened on his ass as the larger boy finally allowed their chapped lips to crash together, both groaning in perfect, imperfect symphony.

Kyle wouldn't bother finishing that broken sentence, the numbed tips of his fingers curling in Cartman's hair where it escaped the confines of the other's omnipresent hat. Kyle's head was cold - Cartman had somehow trained a homing pigeon to use Kyle's ushanka as a beacon and landing pad for pigeon shit, forcing the Jew to discard it several days ago.

If Cartman's hands hadn't been on his ass, Kyle had no doubt they'd be entangled with his insane curls, holding Kyle up by his goddamn head if he had to, while they dry-fucked up against the school wall.

Kyle's mouth moved voraciously over Cartman's, nuzzling over his fat lips, licking _inside_his mouth as easily as if someone had held a cherry Twizzler up to the Fatass's mouth and couldn't possibly expect to pull it away with the candy still intact. No, Kyle knew exactly what would happen indulging Cartman - his tongue practically sucked into that warm mouth by the root, slick, hard teeth scraping at the tiny lumps of his taste buds and leaving awkward numbness and tastelessness behind.

They couldn't kiss normal, didn't want to, considering they had weeks of practice mentally devirginizing each other's mouths with thick, hard thrusts of tongue breaking the soft ring of their tightly clenched lips.

They pulled away when drool began to drip nastily down their chins, practically suturing their faces together by the wind that found that tiny space between their bottom lip and chins to freeze over. Kyle discretely rubbed his face against Cartman's red jacket, the other slathering his mouth over Kyle's cheek in a way that had the Jew instantly half-wishing they had reconsidered the acceptability of skin-to-skin contact between them as rivals. That was fucking gross.

"God, Fatass!"

"Shut up, fucking Jew!"

And like that, all (some) was (temporarily) forgiven, and they glared at each other now for somehow, inexplicably, failing to be naked yet.

It wasn't like their classmates _weren't_walking by the open space catcalling, staring with red cheeks, or marking the joyous event of two opposing super powers coming together through the magic of CELLPHONE VIDEO CAPTURE, THANK YOU. But they had long ago diluted the effects through constant, repeated torment of non-action, practically in each other's pants while in each other's faces, screaming or staring, both equally intense and public.

Kyle rubbed himself against Cartman's paunchy belly, a little in love, _deeply_ in hate with how much he wanted it, how fucking quickly Cartman would give it to him since the fat turd wanted the same exact thing. Except _it_was the loaded word, and not exactly crystal-clear.

A kiss - a fucking, bent over backwards, tongue-in-throat, finger practically knuckle-deep in his _ass_kiss - he'd gotten it. Bruised lips and limbs, mild concussions – Kyle had gotten those too, along with Cartman's unapologetic smirk on equally puffy and bitten lips.

It...it...

It plagued Kyle senselessly, despite it being right there, right within his reach (considering Cartman's bulk was hard to miss entirely).

"Why aren't you fucking me?" Kyle hissed, honest to gods-be-damned angry that he'd even had to ask.

Cartman's brown eyes were mild, eyebrow hiked up in vague amusement, fingers easing up over Kyle's ass in the way that was guaranteed to piss the redhead off even more when his pet jewrat was feeling frisky and argumentative, and Cartman did the exact opposite instead of reflecting Kyle's fury back onto him.

Beautiful.

"Because you came to school with your pants on," Cartman answered, like it was a perfectly logical explanation, and Kyle - being the calculating Jew that he was - was retarded for not reaching that same practical conclusion. Like having to feed answers to a particularly slow child.

Kyle gave a furious, frustrated shriek behind taut lips, bucking against Cartman until the other chuffed condescendingly, but his strong hands shifted their grip over Kyle's perfect rear, reaching for his button and zipper and going for _it._

Public sex was just as revealing and shameless as their fights. Cartman's thick fingers slicking up Kyle's ass with cold spit in the school yard no more awkward or imposing than their debates on whether their observational cure for AIDS could be patented - making profit off those who suffered and/or were impoverished. It was a discussion still in-progress, though its comparison was receiving monumental results.

Kyle's moans echoed in the mid-afternoon air, over the muffled stomp of feet and book bags being dragged in muddy, packed snow.

Cartman covered Kyle's mouth with his own, more to eat up those delicious sounds and deprive everyone else of reactions that he'd so clearly extracted himself. Two fingers, then three, and when Kyle was squalling like a newborn kitten Cartman would more or less likely just drown, he eased his cock into him, fly open and boxers pushed aside, marking Kyle as his most enjoyable after-school activity.


End file.
